A Millionaire at Midnight (Bachelor Auction)

by Naima Simone

  Alex.

  He stood in front of the elevated dais where Cynthia, Troy, and his parents sat, a cordless microphone in his hand. God, he was…beautiful. His dark hair capped his head, and a five o’clock shadow dusted his strong jaw. His black suit complemented his tall, big body perfectly, and he cut an imposing but graceful figure.

  And Christ, how she’d missed him.

  Merri’s head whipped from the front of the room to her, blue eyes wide, mouth split into a huge grin. “Oh. My. God.” She silently mouthed.

  On the other side of her, Katherine clutched Morgan’s hand underneath the table. She also smiled, though not as huge as Merri’s.

  Morgan didn’t say anything or move to draw his attention, but it seemed she didn’t need to. Unerringly, he scanned the room and zeroed in on her. She stopped breathing. Then decided passing out would be seriously counterproductive, so she exhaled. But moving? Moving was beyond her ability at the moment.

  He wound a path through the tables, and in his wake heads turned, following him. Gawking. Distantly, she acknowledged she should be embarrassed about all this attention focused on her. But that would require thinking, and like moving, it was also beyond her ability.

  “Morgan.” He stopped in front of her table, and she could only stare, drinking him in. She’d been starved for just a glimpse of him, certain that moment in his office would be her last. “Hello.”

  “She says hi,” Merri piped up helpfully, when the words stuck in Morgan’s throat. Damn her.

  He glanced at Merri, but almost immediately, he returned that stormy gaze to Morgan. “I would say fancy meeting you here, but… Oh hell,” he muttered, dragging his fingers over his short, dark hair. A slight tinge flushed his sharp cheekbones, and it brought to mind just one other time she’d seen this particular expression on him.

  Mystified, she studied him.

  Alex was embarrassed. Uncomfortable.

  Not that she blamed him. The “fancy meeting you here” joke? Awkward.

  “I, uh, hope you don’t mind, but I called your mother earlier, and she told me you would be here,” he murmured.

  Whoa. He’d sought her out. Why? Last time they’d talked, he’d said he didn’t need her anymore. He’d basically thrown her aside.

  Aaand that memory ushered in the hurt.

  “Morgan, I fuc—” He shot a look at her mother, then the other guests in the room—guests who weren’t even pretending not to listen. The slashes of red staining his skin deepened. He cleared his throat. “I mean, I was an ass—” He broke off again. His full lips firmed into a straight line, a tiny muscle ticking along his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s not very good at this, is he?” Merri whispered in Morgan’s ear.

  Not. At. All. “Shut up, Merri,” Morgan murmured.

  But Alex must’ve heard her sister—Merri never had learned the true art of a whisper—and he scrubbed his hands over his face, exhaling a deep breath.

  “No, she’s right. I’m messing this up.” He loosed a hard chuckle. “On my way over here, I had everything I was going to say planned out. But, hell, I’ve never had pretty words. Not when they counted.”

  He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his slacks and turned as if about to stride out of the room but suddenly whipped back around, his storm-heavy eyes dark, intense. That gaze coupled with the grim set of his mouth and the taut lines of his face lent him a fierce expression that sucked the breath from her lungs.

  “Listen, you once called me emotionally stunted. And you were right. But I was happy like that. Satisfied. Until you came along. I wasn’t ready for you, and to be honest, I didn’t want the change you kept bringing in my life—bringing to me. I didn’t want to feel. And you insisted on not giving me a choice.” He frowned as if irritated that she’d been an emotional pest. “I was good at being alone, in the dark. Cold. Damn it, I was okay. I was fine.”

  “In the dark? Cold? He’s a freaking millionaire. He can’t afford to pay his electric bills?” Merri whispered in Morgan’s ear.

  “Would. You. Shut. Up?” Morgan hissed. Jesus, her sister really should never miss an opportunity to keep her mouth closed.

  But once more, Alex must have heard Merri’s comment because he pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly squeezing his eyes closed. “Shit, I know I’m not making sense.”

  Yes, you are. The words snagged in her throat. He was making perfect sense to her, and it terrified her. A shuddering breath whistled out of her, and she blinked back the hot sting of tears. He shouldn’t say things like this to her. Not when her heart was so vulnerable and aching. Not when hope refused to die with some dignity. Instead, hope lifted her head, blinking and batting her lashes.

  “Alex,” she whispered, shaking her head. She didn’t know if she could do it again. Risk serving her heart to him again. “I—”

  “No, wait. Just let me…” With a low growl that vibrated with frustration, he shook his head. “I’m no Prince Charming. I’m a workaholic. I’m anti-social. I don’t express my feelings easily and can be grouchy as hell. And you…Morgan, you’re everything. Beautiful, intelligent, witty, kind. No way in hell do I deserve you. But…” He breathed in sharply, suddenly tensing his shoulders. “I love you,” he said on a soft, vulnerable exhalation. “I need you. And loving you, having you in my life, building a family with you, watching you grow with our child”—he laughed slightly when she reared back in surprise at that—“Yeah, I’m not even scared of that anymore. It’s what I want most. Not to be CEO. You. That dream. With you,” he said softly. “I love you.” Stronger, surer this time. “I was too stubborn and scared to tell you that before, but now… Now I’m fighting for you, and I don’t believe it’s too late. I can’t believe it. And I’m asking you to let me win.”

  Oh damn.

  She closed her eyes…and surrendered. She loved him. From the moment they met, she hadn’t stood a chance. And more importantly, she wanted to love him, be with him. He’d changed her, strengthened her, made her believe in herself again. Even with his grouchy, workaholic, unsocial, emotionally stunted ways.

  And hell, he’d come to this engagement party and delivered the most awkward, painful apology and declaration of love she’d ever heard in a roomful of strangers. If that wasn’t love, she didn’t know what was. For Alexander Bishop to strip himself emotionally naked in front of all those people, he must adore her. Trust her. Want her.

  Oh boy. She was going to do it. She was going to leap again. And believe he would catch her.

  “Depends.” She paused. “Will you let the Backstreet Boys sing at our reception?”

  He blinked. Then a slow grin spread across his face before he frowned. “How about I take you on one of their cruises where they perform for our honeymoon?”

  She pursed her lips, tapping a fingertip against them, pretending to mull it over when inside joy and hope leaped and danced like rainbow-shitting unicorns on LSD.

  “All right. Deal.” Then she launched from her chair and into his arms.

  He caught her. Just like she knew he would. Like she had no doubt he would continue to do for the rest of their lives together.

  And as his mouth covered hers in a tender, passionate kiss that solidified his promise—and rocked her world—she knew as long as she had this wonderful, loving man by her side, she would never be alone again.

  Epilogue

  One year later

  “Son of a bitch,” Morgan muttered, propping herself higher against the mountain of pillows on the bed. It’d been a while since she’d been able to lie on her back without feeling like Dumbo was plopped on her chest. But at the moment, it wasn’t being uncomfortable that had her cursing and shifting to a sitting position.

  That honor belonged to the tight band of pain that squeezed her lower abdomen.

  Inhaling, then after a moment, slowly releasing the breath, she pressed her palm to the bottom of her swollen belly.

  “It’s almost that time, sweetheart. I’ve been waiting a
long time to finally see you,” she murmured to her baby girl. As if she’d heard Morgan, her daughter shifted, the ripple of motion visible under Morgan’s nightgown. Smiling, she whispered an assurance to her. Then, she shoved the sleeping man next to her in the shoulder. “Alex, wake up. It’s time.”

  Without turning over, her husband reached behind him and patted her stomach. “It’s just another one of those Braxton Hicks contractions,” he mumbled. “Go back to sleep.”

  Okay, so they’d had a couple of false alarms where they’d ended up at the hospital only to end up returning home. The last incident being last night. Still… She glared at him, even as she couldn’t help but admire the taut muscles along his bare, wide shoulders and back. And want to press a kiss to the spot right under his nape. Even when she was ready to pop with their baby, he still stirred a delicious heat in her that was a heady mixture of love and lust. She snorted. That “heady mixture” is how she’d ended up in the state she was now.

  They’d been inseparable since the night he’d shown up at Cynthia and Troy’s engagement party; he’d moved her into the house in Weston that evening and had ended up purchasing it for them. A month later, they’d married in a small, intimate ceremony with just their family and a few close friends. It’d been the exact opposite of the wedding she’d had planned with Troy, and it’d been perfect.

  Her life was perfect.

  A husband who never let a day go by without telling her how much he loved and wanted her. A career she loved. A supportive, close family. The happily ever after she’d once believed hadn’t been meant for her, now belonged to her and the man who’d made every one of her dreams come true.

  Including a family of her own.

  Speaking of…

  She pushed him again. “It’s not Braxton Hicks,” she said. “And unless I peed in the bed, my water just broke. So yeah, pumpkin. It’s time.”

  As if he’d been zapped with a cattle prod, Alex leaped from the bed. Like a cartoon character, he dashed across the room and threw open the closet door, disappearing inside the large walk-in space before reemerging, dressed and with her pre-packed hospital bag. Even as another contraction seized her, she couldn’t help but loose a breathless snicker.

  He’d just returned from a business trip to New York on behalf of Bishop Enterprises, his last before the birth of their child and the month-long break he planned on taking. In spite of his confession and ultimatum to his father, Malcolm had eventually relented, naming Alex CEO of the family company. The business continued to thrive with him at the helm and Kim by his side. Since her divorce, she’d thrown herself into her work and proved herself even more invaluable to the company. And though Morgan’s heart ached for her sister-in-law’s bruised one, she couldn’t be prouder of them both.

  “Come on, baby.” He rounded the bed, his shirt hanging open, his hands outstretched. “I’ve already called Dr. Simmons. Let’s go meet our little girl.”

  She slipped her hands into his, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Minutes later, she let him guide her from their bedroom and down the stairs. The contractions were still at least ten minutes apart, but damn it, she would feel better once they were at the hospital.

  “Did you call Kim?” she questioned. Morgan had become as close with Alex’s sister as she was with Merri. Malcolm still treated his daughter with a polite, cold distance, but Morgan proudly called Kim her sister. And as her pinch-hitter Lamaze partner coach when Alex couldn’t be there, she would be in the delivery room with them.

  “Yes, and she’s on her way.” He glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow arched. “She didn’t believe you were in labor, either, by the way.”

  “Skeptics,” she grumbled.

  Moments later, he eased her into his car. Just in time for another contraction to clench her belly.

  “Oh shit,” she breathed, panting slightly as it eased after several moments. “That one hurt a little more.”

  “We’ll be there in a few minutes, Morgan. And you, baby girl,” he murmured, bending and brushing his lips over her swollen stomach. “Go easy on your mommy just a little bit longer.”

  Closing the door, he quickly rounded the front of the car and slid into the driver’s seat. Clasping her hand, he leaned over and pressed his mouth to Morgan’s, sending heat rolling through her in spite of her progressing labor.

  “Before you start screaming how much this is my fault, and you want to chop my boys off, let me tell you, I love you.”

  Her heart did that flip-flop thing that was a phenomena particular only to him. She cupped his cheek. “I love you, too, Hufflepuff. With all my heart. Now get me to the damn hospital.”

  …

  Nine hours later, Morgan cradled their daughter in her arms. A joy and love she hadn’t known existed filled her chest so much that spontaneous combustion didn’t seem so far-fetched.

  God, she was beautiful. A tiny, feminine version of her father with his black hair, grey eyes, and long lashes. Though from the wail she’d let loose when she’d been born, Caitlin Alexis Bishop definitely took after her mother in certain aspects. Morgan smiled, rubbing a knuckle down her daughter’s soft, pink cheek.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Alex whispered, awe thickening his voice as he caressed their baby’s other cheek. “A miracle.” From his perch on the hospital bed next to them, he cradled both Morgan and their daughter in his arms, brushing his lips over Morgan’s temple. “Just like her mother.”

  Tipping back her head, she blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “There was a time when I didn’t believe I would have this. Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for loving me, for giving me…everything.”

  “Baby,” he murmured, swiping his thumb over the tears she hadn’t managed to keep from dropping. “I love you. Thank you for letting me. And more importantly…” He swept a kiss across her mouth, then bent his head to press another to the top of their baby’s soft curls. “Thank you for blackmailing me into hiring you.”

  She laughed, and Caitlin sniffled in her arms, but didn’t wake at the sudden burst of sound. Cuddling the little girl closer, she murmured an apology, but then grinned up at her husband, her love, her life.

  “Cinderella, eat your damn heart out.”

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  Acknowledgments

  Thank you, Father, for your never-ending love and grace. Both are limitless, and I don’t know where I would be without them. Without You.

  To Gary. You have been my rock since the very beginning. I can’t believe there was a time when I was actually afraid to tell you I wanted to write! You, who doesn’t like to read, but immediately volunteered to read my book and loved it—my admittedly awful book. LOL! I love you beyond words.

  To Debra. Thank you for loving Morgan! LOL! And for always laughing in the right places and offering amazing suggestions in your critique. If my book doesn’t go through you first, it ain’t getting sent! :)

  To Sarah Ballance. My fellow member of the Montoya Mob! You have been my funny bone, my stress reliever, my scape goat, and my partner-in-crime. Coming to know you has been one of the best parts of this journey! Love you, girl!

  To Kim Matlock. Thank you for allowing me to use your name for such an awesome character. You were my inspiration, and I think we did ah-mazing!

  To Kaylee Nizza. My teaser and inspiration guru. Thank you for being a joy as well as always willing to lend an ear or opinion. You’re just wonderful!

  To Tracy Montoya. I’m running out of words for the woman who whips me into shape, challenges me to go big or go home, champions me, might—miiiight—just beat me out in sarcasm, and never fails to make me feel like a New York Times bestselling superstar. Yeah, other than I adore you so much I would even almost consider sharing Jason Momoa with you, I’m out. :)

  And finally, to the Saints and Sinners. Thank you for making each
day wonderful! Your cheer, hilarity, stellar appreciation for man candy—I mean, inspiration—and support means the world to me!

  About the Author

  Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown, and Linda Howard many years ago. Well, not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading, and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights—creating stories of unique men and women who experience the first bites of desire, the dizzying heights of passion, and the tender, healing heat of love.

  She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bulletproof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically challenged bliss in the southern United States.

  Come visit Naima at www.naimasimone.com.

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